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Rollercoaster pasta making
And other attempts at staying sane.
Xander Beattie
California-based novelist who wrote "The President" (PRONK, 2025). Collector of fountain pens, secondhand books and swimming spots.
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Home is where the art is
In addition to seeing old friends and revisiting beloved places, another wondrous thing about returning to South Africa was being able to retrieve numerous prints I’ve collected over the years. It has been a joyous reunion indeed — after all, when it comes to transforming a house into a home,
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California without the Teslas (kinda)...
A postcard from Cape Town.
From negronis to Molotovs
A very different kind of cocktail hour in Kyiv.
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Comfort food — and the contentment of cats
On channelling one's inner feline (and stuffing your face)
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Finding beauty within the bareness
When winter has come.
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The nuclear apocalypse playground
Clambering onto rocket launchers, and the rusting wings of Sukhoi fighter jets. Scrambling through dimly lit tunnels. Jumping on the heavy metal lid of a missile silo. Pressing *the* button in the control room a dozen storeys below ground — yes, the one that, until it was decommissioned, would’ve launched
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The saudade safari
Greetings from LAX. I have just been checked in for my flight to Europe — a feat that required furnishing: * my CDC vaccination card * proof of a just-done antigen test (nose-tickling, eye-watering [and not just cos it costs $80], but most importantly, negative) * two passenger location forms (for Switzerland and the
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A fly on the wall of a Michelin restaurant
The tables have turned.
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Taking the road to Happy Camp
On a recent road trip — the first in a long, long time — we drove the stretch between O’Brien and Happy Camp where the Slater Fire tore through last autumn. Charred desolation unfolded all the way to the horizon, offering a grim harbinger of what lies in store for the
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Making lemonade in New York City
This spring, I planned to be far from the madding crowds, drinking in the ocean-wide skies and rippling red canyons of the Southwest. But then, a summons to Philadelphia for an immigration interview instantly scuppered those meticulously Google Mapped plans — and I found myself flying eastwards instead. We spent a
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Wild swimming in the fading light
Self-care when you're all at sea.